The Tyrant's Tomb

curt nod—not hostile, just sad, acknowledging that we had things to talk
about later.
Hazel exhaled. “Thank the gods.” She gave Reyna a delicate hug, careful
not to unbalance her. “Is it true about Lavinia acting on your orders?”
Reyna glanced at our pink-haired friend. The praetor’s pained expression
said something like, I respect you a lot, but I also hate you for being right.
“Yes,” Reyna managed to say. “Plan L was my idea. Lavinia and her
friends acted on my orders. They performed heroically.”
Lavinia beamed. “See? I told you.”
The assembled crowd murmured in amazement, as if, after a day full of
wonders, they had finally witnessed something that could not be explained.
“There were many heroes today,” Diana said. “And many losses. I’m
only sorry that Thalia and I couldn’t get here sooner. We were only able to
rendezvous with Lavinia and Reyna’s forces after their raid, then destroy the
second wave of undead, who were waiting in the sewers.” She waved
dismissively, as if annihilating Tarquin’s main force of ghouls and zombies
had been an afterthought.
Gods, I missed being a god.
“You also saved me,” I said. “You’re here. You’re actually here.”
She took my hand and squeezed it. Her flesh felt warm and human. I
couldn’t remember the last time my sister had shown me such open
affection.
“Let’s not celebrate quite yet,” she warned. “You have many wounded to
attend to. The camp’s medics have set up tents outside the city. They will
need every healer, including you, brother.”
Lavinia grimaced. “And we’ll have to have more funerals. Gods. I wish
—”
“Look!” Hazel shrieked, her voice an octave higher than usual.
Arion came trotting up the hill, a hulking human form draped over his
back.
“Oh, no.” My heart wilted. I had flashbacks of Tempest, the ventus horse,
depositing Jason’s body on the beach in Santa Monica. No, I couldn’t watch.
Yet I couldn’t look away.
The body on Arion’s back was unmoving and steaming. Arion stopped
and the form slipped off one side. But it did not fall.
Frank Zhang landed on his feet. He turned toward us. His hair was
singed to a fine black stubble. His eyebrows were gone. His clothes had